In its color, shade and shine, ‘T was a summer warm as wine, With an effervescent flavoring of… And a fragrance and a taste Of ripe roses gone to waste,

DIED—Early morning of September… in the gleaming dawn of ‘name and… Hamilton J. Dunbar. Dead! Dead! Dead! We thought him ours alone;

They walk here with us, hand-in-ha… We gossip, knee-by-knee; They tell us all that they have pl… Of all their joys to be,— And, laughing, leave us: And, to-…

The maple strews the embers of its… O’er the laggard swallows nestled… And the moody cricket falters in h… And the lid of night is falling o’… The lid of night is falling o’er t…

‘He is my friend,’ I said,— ‘Be patient!’ Overhead The skies were drear and dim; And lo! the thought of him Smited on my heart—and then

The smiling face of a happy boy With its enchanted key Is now unlocking in memory My store of heartiest joy. And my lost life again to-day,

As a harvester, at dusk, Faring down some woody trail Leading homeward through the musk Of may-apple and pawpaw, Hazel-bush, and spice and haw,—

The Beautiful City! Forever Its rapturous praises resound; We fain would behold it—but never A glimpse of its dory is found: We slacken our lips at the tender

Bound and bordered in leaf-green, Edged with trellised buds and flow… And glad Summer-gold, with clean White and purple morning-glories Such as suit the songs and stories

DEAD! my wayward boy—_my own_— Not _the Law’s!_ but _mine_—the g… God’s free gift to me alone, Sanctified by motherhood. ‘Bad,’ you say: Well, who is not?

A little boy once played so loud That the Thunder, up in a thunder… Said, 'Since I can’t be heard, wh… I’ll never, never thunder again!' And a little girl once kept so sti…

Even in such a scene of senseless… The children were surprised one su… By a strange man who called across… Inquiring for their father’s resid… And, being answered that this was…

The orchard lands of Long Ago! O drowsy winds, awake, and blow The snowy blossoms back to me, And all the buds that used to be! Blow back along the grassy ways

Being his mother—when he goes away I would not hold him overlong, and… Sometimes my yielding sight of him… So quick of tears, I joy he did n… To catch the faintest rumor of the…

_Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt… Thou shalt not wash the dishes, no… But sit on a cushion and sew a fin… And feast upon strawberries, sugar… Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt t…